


there you go (making me a liar)

by sayochisas



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Masturbation, Smut, Voyeurism, yes dorothea and edelgard are roommates, yes dorothea and petra are camgirls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2020-12-28 05:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayochisas/pseuds/sayochisas
Summary: living with dorothea saves her money for the rent check, but, god, edelgard’s pretty sure it’s shaving years off of her life expectancy.alternatively, edelgard hates her roommate, hates her job, and has the hots for a camgirl named rose.





	1. chapter one

edelgard really, really hates her job. 

she spends her whole day around the slimy men she calls her co-workers, dodging their grabby hands and trying her best to ignore the way most of them look at her like she’s just a piece of meat for them to devour. 

she knows what they all think of her; she’s too young to be working in their office, too pretty to be treated with the same level of respect they offer to every other co-worker. they treat her like a high school intern, like she’s only there to bat her eyelashes and fetch them coffee.

they disgust her.

but a paycheck is a paycheck, after all, and she can’t complain much when her wallet is steadily growing fatter and fatter with each passing day. 

not fat enough to move out of the apartment edelgard shares with her roommate, but it’s getting there. she has a little savings fund dedicated towards raising money for a place of her very own; it makes her smile every time she sees it in her banking app. 

her apartment is nice, for sure, but she can’t stand sharing it. living with her roommate, dorothea, saves her money for the rent check, but, god, edelgard’s pretty sure it’s shaving years off of her life expectancy.

but enough of that negativity. it’s 6pm on a thursday night and edelgard’s just got home from her office, shaking off a long day of toxic masculinity as she takes off her shoes and lets her hair down. 

“dorothea?” she calls out, grinning upon receiving no response. _yes_, she internally cheers; she’s got the whole place to herself.

dorothea’s out of the house frequently, doing only god knows what; she’s never once mentioned a job or occupation of any kind to edelgard, and edelgard kind of hates her for it. edelgard works her ass off in a toxic work environment nearly every day of the week, and dorothea prances around all day, doing nothing but watching television and entertaining guests and coming home with shopping bags (yes, plural) that are full with luxuries of all kinds-

“enough negativity,” edelgard murmurs, shaking her head. and, sure enough, all thoughts of her roommate evaporate out of her mind once her phone chimes with a notification that always brings a smile to her face.

_ROSE is now going live._

edelgard all but runs to her room, locking the door behind her– she’s home alone for now, but she’d still rather be safe than sorry. she taps the notification eagerly, hands nearly shaking in anticipation as the screen loads in. 

and there’s rose. and, fuck, she’s got a friend.

they’re sitting up on rose’s bed, the camera positioned the same way it always is in front of the bed, set up to keep heads out of frame and bodies front and center. the unfamiliar woman is tanner than rose, purple braided hair dipping just barely into the frame; her hands are all over rose, one hand teasing a round breast and the other exploring down rose’s torso, tracing over the toned abdomen that edelgard’s been lusting over for months now.

the stranger tilts her head down to worship rose’s neck, licking and kissing the skin there as her fingers pinch the nipple of the breast she’s been playing with; edelgard hears a sharp intake of breath, and it’s almost enough for her to lose her composure entirely. the woman rolls rose’s nipple between her fingers and pinches again, _harder_, and rose moans, so low that edelgard almost misses it. 

the sound sends a warm pool of desire surging through her, settling uncomfortably between her legs, and edelgard takes a shaky breath, unbuttoning her skirt and letting it slide off her body, never once taking her eyes off of her phone screen. she’s soaked, already; a common occurrence when watching rose’s livestreams.

she donates ten dollars in appreciation.

rose whimpers as the woman’s fingers enter her; edelgard watches, watches rose’s hands grip the bedsheets, watches the fingers disappear inside rose only to reappear, dripping wet and god, edelgard wants to take those fingers in her mouth, wants to taste rose off of them until she’s satisfied. “fuck, petra,” rose moans again, louder this time, and edelgard can’t help it; she tips another ten. 

edelgard’s hand dips down below the waistband of her underwear as rose spreads her legs wider for petra, hips jolting ever so slightly as she rides the woman’s fingers, moans increasing as she takes petra faster and faster. edelgard doesn’t know when she sank to her knees, but she finds herself kneeled against her carpeted floor, her own fingers rubbing her clit rapidly as she succumbs to her favorite temptation. she can’t help it, not really, not when she’s watching rose; vulnerable and beautiful and _desperate_, and god, edelgard can tell she’s already close.

petra slides her fingers out of rose, and edelgard relishes in the way rose whines at the lack of contact. she pants as she imagines rose beneath her, rose whining like that all because of her. it’s intoxicating, really, so intoxicating that edelgard can feel herself on the very edge of the orgasm she’s been chasing ever since she clicked on the notification. god, she wants to come, she’s craving the release of the pressure throbbing between her legs; but petra’s shifting now, kneeling at the foot of the bed, careful to keep her back to the camera, and edelgard can’t help but watch and attempt to delay the orgasm she knows is rapidly approaching.

petra’s hands grip rose’s hips, pulling the camgirl forward, and suddenly petra’s head is between rose’s milky thighs, rose’s head tilting back with a loud moan, and god, it’s too much, and edelgard doesn’t know where to look; she doesn’t know if she should be watching the way rose’s fingers are grasping petra’s head tightly or if she should be watching the way rose’s chest is heaving with pleasure or if she should be watching how rose’s throat is bared and beautiful, red marks demarcating all the places petra has bitten and claimed. 

edelgard can almost see rose’s lips, hovering in the frame of the camera for a rare moment as rose loses herself to the feeling of petra’s mouth on her clit; they’re full and swollen and edelgard comes imagining those lips on hers, those lips on every single centimeter of her body, and she can’t take it anymore, can’t take _rose_ anymore. it feels so good; rose _always_ makes her feel so good.

“f-fuck, petra, i’m-“ rose arches into the pleasure, into petra; her hands force petra’s head almost impossibly deeper, thighs shaking as she comes on petra’s tongue.

edelgard leaves the stream exhausted, sweaty, and seventy dollars poorer.


	2. chapter two

“good morning, edie!” dorothea greets her the next morning in their kitchen, nursing a steaming hot mug between her hands and an _incredibly_ too cheery attitude for 7 in the morning, edelgard thinks. 

“morning,” edelgard grumbles, pushing past dorothea to pour herself a cup of coffee. getting out of bed to get ready for work was certainly hard enough; dorothea, though, made her mornings downright hellish.

“looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” edelgard doesn’t even have to look up to know dorothea’s got her red lips curled up into that classic, insufferable smirk. “poor thing.”

mentally, edelgard references her savings fund; another month or so and she’ll have enough for an apartment of her own, annoying roommate be damned. but, for now, her wallet isn’t growing any fatter, so she forces out a bitter laugh and a sip of coffee down her throat before grabbing her purse. “i’ll see you later, dorothea.”

“bye now, edie.”

edelgard purses her lips and fights the urge to correct her, but she knows it’s no use. dorothea has always marched to the rhythm of her own drum, from the way she washes the dishes (incorrectly) to the way she does the laundry (also incorrectly) to the way she blasts her music at all hours like an angsty teenager and sings at the very top of her lungs during her thirty-minute showers (edelgard can’t resist rolling her eyes; _we get it, dorothea, you can sing._)

_just one more month._

//

“-and last week, she left the tv on all night while she was out partying with her friends, and i confronted her about it when she got back and she just laughed at me and fell asleep in the hallway! in the hallway, hubert, honestly what kind of person does that?” edelgard complains. it’s her lunch break and, as per usual, she’s spending it at the counter of the Adrestian deli down the block from her work. 

hubert sighs from his position behind the counter; he’s having a rough day, edelgard can tell. and yet he’s still ready, as always, to offer his ears for yet another day of edelgard’s venting. they have a bit of an unconventional friendship, forged through edelgard’s many lunch breaks at the deli, the frustration of her work and home environments piling up and leading her to confide in the stoic worker behind the counter. she had worried, at first, that she was bothering the man; he seemed more than content to be on his own during his shifts, usually reading a paperback or tidying the counter instead of striking up conversation with the deli’s patrons. 

(all her fears were driven away, after a week or two of bothering hubert; edelgard fondly remembers the day she arrived at the deli to find her usual spot at the counter reserved for her, with her usual black coffee waiting there, steaming hot.)

after that day, edelgard and hubert became practically inseparable during her lunchtime visits. she would feel bad for taking up the time and attention of the deli’s hardest worker, but they didn’t get many customers anyway; and hubert was, well, basically her only (and dearest) friend, so it didn’t hurt to be a little selfish when it came to him.

her day-to-day life was filled with enough suffering, between her dreadful workdays and dorothea. hubert was a breath of fresh air that she absolutely adored. 

“you’ll be able to move out soon, edelgard,” hubert says, taking her coffee cup over to the sink. “we can go apartment hunting at the end of the month, if you wish.”

“actually…” edelgard sighs, pushing the remainder of her lunch around with her fork. her dream of moving out after another month had quickly diminished over the past week or so; her savings fund hadn’t been growing any larger, and she had a sneaking suspicion as to why– not that hubert had to know the specifics. “that may have to be postponed. i’m dealing with a slight budgeting failure.”

“aren’t you an accountant?”

“yes, well,” edelgard blushes, trying her hardest not to think about where her paychecks have been going as of late. “i’ve made a few unexpected miscalculations.”

“miscalculations… interesting,” hubert drawls, and edelgard fights the urge to combust. there’s no way he knows, she reasons with herself, but she’s pretty sure her embarrassment is written all over her face. “and what, exactly, are you miscalculating-“

“lunch break over!” edelgard blurts out, standing up and grabbing her phone before hubert can turn around and see just how flustered she’s gotten at just the brief mention of her predicament. it chimes in her hand and she’s ashamed to realize she doesn’t even need to check it to know what notification she just received; she would know that particular sound anywhere. “see you tomorrow!”

she pretends not to hear hubert’s stifled laugh as she dashes out of the deli and back down the street to the office. just knowing that rose is live does something to her, edelgard thinks. her mind is unwittingly flashing back to the last time she watched rose’s livestream, and edelgard can feel her face growing redder and redder thinking about how good rose’s little whimpers and moans had sounded through her earphones. 

now isn’t the time, it really isn’t, but edelgard can’t stop her mind from wandering as she sits back down, slightly out of breath, at her desk in her cubicle. rose had taken her time last night. edelgard can almost picture it perfectly; rose’s perfectly manicured fingers fucking herself relentlessly, sinking inside herself over and over again, taking herself to the edge of a release only to stop suddenly almost every time. edelgard can still hear the camgirl’s whines from every time she removed her wet fingers to tease her clit or pinch her nipple, and fuck, she can feel herself getting soaked just reminiscing.

god, rose is downright _sinful_. 

edelgard loves every second of it.

//

“so, this is a little embarrassing.”

they’re sitting in the bar in some hotel lobby. edelgard doesn’t quite know where they are; well, she knows the address, she drove herself there from work, but she isn’t the type of person who frequents this particular neighborhood. it’s highbrow– there’s a large chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling that edelgard thinks could pay off her entire student loan debt. but she had texted dorothea looking for a place, any place, to meet up (it is getting increasingly difficult these days to pin down dorothea’s ever-changing location), and she had found no need to try to negotiate with her roommate over the given address. after all, edelgard was asking for enough already.

dorothea quirks an eyebrow at edelgard’s words, taking a sip from her glass of red wine that was previously resting on the crystal clear table between them. “is everything alright, edie?” edelgard can’t tell if it’s real or faux concern dripping off of dorothea’s words. it doesn’t matter, not really, but it feels better to focus on how genuine dorothea’s reactions seem than on the words edelgard has to speak next.

she doesn’t know how she got to this point in her life. 

well, that’s not entirely true.

edelgard knows how she got here. she’s always had a certain affinity for beautiful women, that much is true. and everything about rose is oh so _very_ beautiful. 

“i’m not going to be able to pay rent in full this month,” edelgard admits, at last; she’s unable to look dorothea in the eyes, preferring to focus on the lobby’s wooden paneling just behind dorothea’s head instead. she braces herself for dorothea’s anger or contempt or the passive aggressiveness that she is entirely too familiar with after almost one and a half years of living with the other woman. what she doesn’t expect is a laugh– a genuine one, like dorothea’s just heard the most amazing joke.

anger bubbles up in edelgard’s chest so quickly that she almost doesn’t even register its presence. she comes crawling to dorothea with her tail between her legs only to be met with this kind of dismissive behavior? dorothea will never change, edelgard thinks. she’ll always be this spoiled, selfish woman–

“don’t even worry your pretty little head over it,” dorothea laughs, again, and the anger in edelgard’s chest disappears almost as fast as it had appeared, only to be replaced with confusion in its purest form. “i’ve got you covered, edelgard.”

“wh- really?” edelgard hopes she doesn’t sound as surprised as she feels. she doesn’t know what she’s more grateful for: dorothea’s generosity or the usage of edelgard’s government name in place of the horrible nickname the woman usually insists upon using. “are you sure you don’t want to get me evicted or something?”

dorothea scoffs at that, flagging down their waiter. “don’t be ridiculous, edie.”

(edelgard suppresses a sigh.)

“it’s really no big deal. now, if you’ll excuse me,” dorothea signs the check before edelgard can even stammer out a protest; she’s gone in a flash and edelgard is left in her dust, wondering exactly what the hell just happened. she’s not complaining, of course, not at all, and she’s incredibly grateful to dorothea for her kindness.

_but still_, edelgard thinks, her eyes glancing over the lipstick stain dorothea left on her wine glass. _what the hell?_

//

after that, things change.

not overnight. but eventually, edelgard becomes less scathing around dorothea, and dorothea becomes more considerate. dorothea’s around more often than she used to, and edelgard finds that she doesn’t mind too much when they end up staying up later than they intend to, chatting in the kitchen and in the living room and sometimes even edelgard’s bedroom. 

dorothea still spends her weekends outside of the apartment, just like she always does, and sometimes (only _sometimes_, edelgard would like to emphasize) edelgard finds herself missing the woman’s company. the apartment feels too quiet for her own taste as of late.

but, of course, there’s always rose to keep her company.

she’s grateful that the camgirl is more active on the weekends; the apartment’s silence is alleviated with the sound of rose’s moans and edelgard’s fingers working between her legs. it feels so good, so good that edelgard can disregard her bleeding wallet and the way her savings fund dedicated to moving out hasn’t been touched since dorothea saved her ass a month ago. 

for a moment, edelgard’s mind wanders. she still has to pay dorothea back for taking on half her rent last month. she’s been working hard for a raise lately, but there doesn’t seem to be one in sight; not that she expects much from that boss of hers. slowly, but surely, stress begins to infiltrate her thoughts.

“fuck, baby,” rose whimpers as two of petra’s fingers enter her once again, and all intelligible thoughts quickly vacate edelgard’s mind. all she can think about, truly, is rose. the way rose cries out for more, the way her body trembles around petra’s dripping wet fingers, the way her fingers grip the bedsheets.

edelgard wishes she could see her face, just this one time. she knows that rose hides her face for the same reason edelgard uses a fake name on her account; privacy is of the utmost importance, especially when it comes to something as stigmatized as sex work. but, fuck, when rose gets like this, all desperate and whiny and _close_, edelgard can’t help but want to see her face when she falls over the edge. 

she wonders what rose looks like, truly, all fucked out and barely coherent in petra’s arms. god, edelgard would do anything, really, just for the chance to touch her and kiss her and see her face when she comes.

but there’s nothing she can do, especially from behind the screen of her phone. rose is nothing more than a fantasy; utterly unattainable, especially to an average viewer like edelgard. it’s an impossible dream, to touch her or kiss her or see her face when she comes; all she can do is donate a few dollars (30, to be exact) and put her imagination to work.

she imagines rose straddling her lap, moaning into edelgard’s mouth as her fingers work between rose’s beautiful, _beautiful_ thighs. edelgard’s fingers slide through her own arousal and she wonders if rose will be this soaked when she touches her, wonders if rose will whimper as edelgard enters her, wonders if she’ll throw her head back and moan edelgard’s name, just for her. edelgard’s mind races to the soundtrack of her whines mixed with rose’s sobs and petra’s labored breathing and all she can think, all she can feel is rose’s imaginary presence in her lap.

she wants to fuck rose until she makes her cry out for edelgard and edelgard only, and it feels pathetic. just for a moment, she feels utterly pathetic, laying naked on her bed in the empty apartment, touching herself to a livestream of a woman who, apart from the frequent donations in the name of edelgard’s alter ego, will never know she exists. her presence in rose’s life totals up to hundreds of dollars in rose’s wallet, she realizes, and the thought is almost enough to kill off her lust completely. 

then rose cries out from around petra’s fingers and edelgard loses her entire train of thought because, jesus, rose just sounds so fucking wonderful like this. “harder, please,” she gasps out and petra obliges, her fingers thrusting into rose even faster than they were before; edelgard can tell how wet rose is just from the sound. she imagines her own fingers fucking rose like that, relentless and greedy and, god, edelgard just wants to wreck rose from head to toe, wants her to clench around her fingers and scream her name.

another cry for _more_ plunges edelgard back into her fantasy; she’d give rose everything she is begging for and more, she thinks. just the thought of rose on her lap, needy and compliant all for her is enough to take edelgard to the edge of her climax. her fingers are moving so roughly inside of herself and she’s going to come, just like this, lost inside her fantasy, thinking about rose straddling her and dorothea pressed flush behind her–

and before edelgard can register it, before she can even begin to panic over what she just imagined, she’s coming hard, pure pleasure rushing through her body for a moment before the panic joins in.

her chest is heaving, exerted from the activity, but her physical exhaustion can’t stop her mind from almost exploding. she had thought about her roommate, about _dorothea_; dorothea running her hands over edelgard’s body, dorothea’s naked breasts pressed up against edelgard’s bare skin, dorothea kissing the back of her neck as edelgard’s fingers thrust up into rose. 

jesus, edelgard must be more pathetic than she already thought; first fantasizing over rose, now over her enigma of a roommate. she doesn’t even know where those dirty thoughts had come from; it must be a fluke, edelgard reasons, still laying naked in her bed. some sort of stray thought that edelgard’s horny brain had latched onto. she’d been too wrapped up in the pleasure of it all to consciously introduce dorothea into her fantasies, she thinks, so it’s really not significant. 

not significant at all, edelgard concludes, wiping her fingers off and throwing her sweater over her head. just an sick accident that edelgard had no intention of repeating, ever. things had been better between her and dorothea lately, that much was true, but she doesn’t want her the same way she wants rose. she wants rose in every type of way, wants rose in her bed and in her lap and on her tongue, but dorothea– dorothea’s just a friend. edelgard’s absolutely sure of that, and that thought is enough to reassure and calm her frenzied mind.

she throws herself into her work over the next few days. she has a lot on her plate and a lot to think about, even excluding the whole dorothea thing. so, edelgard thinks about her bank account and how close she is to getting a promotion and about the latest menu changes at the deli that hubert had informed her of.

(and, if anyone asks, _certainly_ not about dorothea and how hard edelgard had come just from the thought of her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this very late? yes. am i satisfied with the ending? no.
> 
> however, i am very confident that the final chapter will be out in the next week! thank you for reading and comments, as always, make my year.


	3. chapter three

edelgard is starting to dread falling asleep.

most nights, her dreams are typical, or as typical as dreams get. she dreams of faraway lands and dentist appointments and the high school she hasn’t stepped a foot into for the past six years; normal dream stuff. and if those were the only dreams she’d been having, she would be completely fine. 

but they weren’t.

no, some nights, she dreams of dorothea. the dreams have a tendency to range from the briefest flashes of a scene to movie-length plots full of complexities and intricacy, but they all seem to contain plenty of similarities. for example: they always end up in edelgard’s bed. 

edelgard dreams of dorothea on top of her. she dreams of dorothea’s lips on hers, of dorothea marking her, claiming her. she dreams of talented fingers slipping between slick thighs, of sobbing out dorothea’s name. she dreams of dorothea taking her apart and putting her back together again with nothing more than her tongue.

she hates it. she hates it so much, the way she wakes up alone in her bed, throbbing at the memory of how dorothea had touched her. she hates how soaked she can get from just a singular dream, hates how (despite her many efforts) she can’t forget who’s making her feel this way. edelgard hates the most the way it makes her feel around dorothea, all on edge and sensitive to even just dorothea’s eyes peering into her own. 

she tries her hardest to avoid dorothea after the dreams start, but it’s difficult, all things considered; it might be easy to avoid a coworker or a friend, but avoiding your roommate is, unfortunately, nearly impossible. and it’s embarrassing, really, how much of a mess she’s been turning into around dorothea. the meaningless touches and gazes edelgard had become accustomed to feels so much more powerful now, so much more intense. just the brush of dorothea’s hand against her skin feels inappropriately overwhelming, and entirely too similar to all the ways dorothea caresses edelgard in her dreams.

“seriously, edie, are you alright?” dorothea asks one night, brow furrowed after edelgard had nearly tripped over herself following a friendly peck on the cheek; a bad enough moment without even factoring in how edelgard had whimpered when dorothea grabbed her arm to prevent her from completely plummeting to the floor. “you’ve been acting.. stranger than usual lately.”

“w-what?” edelgard forces out a casual– or as casual as possible while in the tight grasp of the object of her dreams for the past few weeks– laugh, trying (and failing) not to focus on dorothea’s proximity or how familiar dorothea’s grip on her skin felt or how those fingers had been inside of her just the other night, and fuck, she just knows she’s blushing. the heat rushes to edelgard’s skin too easily when it comes to dorothea and there’s no way in hell she hasn’t noticed and edelgard just wants to disappear into the ground or force hubert to let her move in with him or run away to the next city over–

“you’re flushed,” dorothea frowns, the hand that isn’t gripping edelgard reaching up to brush over one of her red cheeks; edelgard tries not to lean into the touch, despite her embarrassment. “are you feeling sick? should i take you to the doctor?”

_get a grip on yourself_, edelgard curses internally, trying her hardest to take deep breaths (as inconspicuously as possible) and slow her heart rate. dorothea’s a friend. _only_ a friend. they are roommates who like each other more than they used to, in a platonic way.

but, god, she looks into dorothea’s eyes and feels her strong, steady grip and edelgard wishes so badly that this were a dream; if only for dorothea’s hand to slip down, for fingers to brush over her lips and enter her mouth, pressing down into her wet and wanting tongue–

these are decidedly not very platonic thoughts.

“i’m fine,” edelgard protests, (regrettably) shaking off dorothea’s hands. “seriously.”

“are you sure? you seemed pretty out of it for a minute,” dorothea murmurs, and edelgard tries to ignore the way dorothea bites her bottom lip as her eyes scan over her body. it feels eerily similar to the way all of her dreams begin, to all the times edelgard has looked at dorothea and seen all of her wants, all of her desires and lust reflected there in dorothea’s eyes.

she wants to kiss her, edelgard realizes. she’s never wanted anything more, not even rose, and that thought completely terrifies her. it would be so easy, she thinks. dorothea’s right there, right in front of her, looking at her with those pretty doe eyes and god, it’s so familiar that it actually hurts.

“y-yeah,” the words feel too heavy in edelgard’s dry mouth. “i’m fine.”

//

edelgard is not fine.

work was bad today, real bad, and all edelgard wants to do is go home and drink a few glasses of wine and get everything off of her mind. she had a meeting with her boss today, one that she (and dorothea) had been hyping herself up for; she was going to negotiate that raise, at last.

only to be laughed out of the room by the boss and his right-hand men. she had her doubts going into the meeting, absolutely, but it never crossed her mind that she would be shut down and humiliated _that_ badly. it was almost enough to provoke her into going back to her desk to draft her 2-week notice and slam it down on her boss’s desk, right there on the spot. 

but money’s money, even money earned from a job that makes edelgard want to throw herself off of her apartment’s balcony or in front of the nearest passing car. so she had hidden her pain and frustration behind a terse smile and left work a few hours early.

edelgard’s not the type to cry. she can’t remember the last time she did that. but it’s at moments like this where she truly feels on the brink of collapse.

she pours herself a second glass of pinot noir and lies out on her bed, listening to the soundtrack of the city bustling from underneath her building. the apartment is quiet, as per usual. dorothea hasn’t been home in a few days; it isn’t really anything out of the ordinary that would warrant unease, but edelgard can’t help but miss her.

she doesn’t know how she got here, tipsy and alone and missing dorothea so very much. she absolutely despises it.

her phone dings. rose is going live, and, for once, edelgard doesn’t really care.

it dings again and, look, edelgard is only human, so she clicks on the notification and watches rose spread her legs for the camera and not even that can wipe the discontent off of edelgard’s face. she donates a few dollars, then a few more; it doesn’t help, not at all, but it’s practically habit at this point. 

usually, a donation sends a rush of pleasure straight into her system; she feels useful, giving money straight from her bank account to rose’s, and it only feels like the right thing to do, to repay rose for all the pleasure she’s given to her throughout the months. but lately, it’s been feeling… different. the streams are still as titillating as always, nothing has changed on that end, but edelgard supposes her heart isn’t in it anymore; after all, all of the donations in the world can’t seem to get dorothea out of her head. 

she’s still on edelgard’s mind, even now, even with rose’s legs spread and her fingers pumping languidly in and out of her wet core. dorothea, dorothea, _dorothea_. edelgard wonders, not for the first time, where dorothea is. despite their newly forged friendship, there are so many things about her that edelgard doesn’t know. she doesn’t know where dorothea goes every day, or why she doesn’t return for stretches of time. she doesn’t know why dorothea is so affluent, or who her friends are. hell, she doesn’t even know how dorothea ended up in this city to begin with. 

if it weren’t for their lease, edelgard thinks, she probably wouldn’t even know dorothea’s last name.

dorothea’s general air of intrigue bothers edelgard more than she thought it would. it was one thing when they were practically strangers; just one of the many things about dorothea that irritated edelgard to her very core. but now? dorothea’s mystery just stings. dorothea knows almost everything about edelgard, about her college days and her distant family and about hubert and the deli. and in return, edelgard gets… nothing.

maybe edelgard was misreading things. maybe they aren’t truly friends. it wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened– edelgard has always found herself to be a tad bit more invested in her personal relationships than her peers, more eager to read into meaningless gestures that others wouldn’t even give a second glance. 

she exits the stream and throws her phone to the side, too focused on her rapidly spiraling thoughts to pay any more attention to rose’s stream. maybe that’s all that this new friendship between edelgard and dorothea actually is, she thinks. just another one of edelgard’s miscalculations. that would explain a lot. maybe she’s the weird one, giving dorothea so much insight into herself only to be met with nothing in return. maybe that’s why she doesn’t know where dorothea disappears to. maybe edelgard’s just a fool.

the realization leaves her aching; she thinks of all the times she’s opened up to dorothea despite their strained past, of the dreams she has night after night, of the way she can’t get dorothea out of her mind. dorothea probably doesn’t even think of her at all, and if she does, it’s definitely not in the same way edelgard thinks about her. 

god, how could she have been so stupid? to think she could ever mean something significant to dorothea; rich, beautiful, _so_ out of her league dorothea–

“edie?” there’s a soft knock on her door, startling edelgard out of her self-deprecating daze; it’s been over an hour (maybe more, she hasn’t been counting) since she first fell down her rabbit hole, and it takes her a moment to realize who’s at her bedroom door. 

it’s embarrassing, really, how fast edelgard gets up to answer. despite everything, all the unpleasant realizations she’s just had; she gets just the slightest notion of dorothea and she can’t stop herself from wanting more. 

she swings open her door, trying her best not to act too eager; dorothea’s there, of course, looking as impeccable as ever– except for the slight tinge of concern evident in her eyes. “everything alright?”

edelgard frowns. “of course. why wouldn’t it be?”

“there’s a half-empty wine bottle on the kitchen counter. and it’s your favorite. ”

oh, edelgard thinks. she forgot about that. 

“y-yeah, everything’s fine,” she chooses her words carefully; there’s no need for dorothea to know just how upset she was, or what exactly she had been upset over. “my boss sucks.”

“oh, edie,” she hears dorothea sigh, and before she knows it, edelgard’s wrapped up in a tight embrace, her head tucked into dorothea’s shoulder. dorothea feels so warm, she thinks without meaning to, and she smells so good, and she feels so safe in dorothea’s arms–

dorothea pulls away too soon and it’s startling how cold edelgard feels without her. maybe it’s foolish, maybe _she’s_ foolish, but if dorothea doesn’t feel the same way edelgard does about their relationship, it might be alright. as long as dorothea keeps holding her like that, keeps making her feel all comfortable and secure and _happy_, edelgard can’t mind too much.

“i know just the thing to make you feel better,” dorothea beams.

//

turns out, dorothea’s sadness cure is just… more wine.

edelgard isn’t complaining at all, of course, but after her earlier drinking, she’s letting dorothea take the reins on their next bottle. they’re on the couch in their living room; dorothea’s turned on a random season of one of her trashy reality TV shows, but neither of them are paying much attention to the screen.

edelgard’s stretched across the couch, her head in dorothea’s lap; she doesn’t know how she got there, but once again, she’s not complaining. dorothea’s telling one of her club stories. edelgard’s heard this one about a dozen times before, but she can’t stop her, not when she looks so beautiful, hands animated and cheeks flushed and vibrant green eyes glistening under the apartment’s lights. dorothea looks down and smiles at her and edelgard’s breath catches; she’s so pretty, it hurts.

“whatcha looking at, edie?” dorothea teases, not unkindly, and edelgard feels even more heat rising in her cheeks, her blush growing deeper. dorothea giggles at the sight; the sound warms edelgard’s chest and she wonders, just for a moment, if this is what love feels like. “edie?"

edelgard’s brain lags the tiniest bit- maybe it’s the remnants of the alcohol making its way out of her system, pure exhaustion from her terrible workday, or the way dorothea’s fingers are delicately brushing against her temples as she absentmindedly plays with edelgard’s hair. either way, looking up at dorothea, she finds herself at a complete loss for words. “dorothea,” edelgard breathes, dorothea’s name spilling over her lips like a prayer. 

dorothea’s fingers still.

someone moves, and edelgard realizes a little too late that it’s her doing the moving, her elbows pushing her up, her torso propelling herself even closer to dorothea’s magnetic presence. her eyes haven’t strayed away from dorothea’s for even a second, a lilac gaze getting lost in hues of green. 

“edelgard,” dorothea murmurs, fingers slipping from edelgard’s temples to cup her jaw. painted nails trace against edelgard’s chin, tilting it up just the slightest bit. edelgard realizes she’s forgotten how to breathe. “didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s not polite to stare?”

and before edelgard can even make a sound of protest, dorothea’s leaned down just enough to capture edelgard’s lips in a kiss, hand sliding up from edelgard’s jaw to cup the side of her face firmly. dorothea is wanting and eager and demanding with her lips against edelgard’s and the pressure of her hand against her skin, and if edelgard wasn’t so busy short-circuiting, she surely would have thought she was, yet again, dreaming. 

_dorothea_. dorothea is kissing her. dorothea, the woman who haunts her dreams and her days so effortlessly, the woman who edelgard has been aching for in painful silence. she’s in so much awe, edelgard forgets for a moment how uncomfortable it feels to strain her neck up like this to meet dorothea’s lips and how unreal this all feels. all that matters is the woman above her, taking what she wants, for once, from edelgard. 

they break apart for a moment to breathe- looking up at dorothea now, it’s hard to believe that just moments ago, she was so cool and confident. she’s just as flushed as edelgard assumes she herself is, cheeks red and eyes dark with arousal. it does something to edelgard, she thinks, seeing dorothea so… undone, all because of her.

she wants to see more.

so does dorothea, apparently.

“up,” she half-instructs, half-growls, her hands sliding down to grasp edelgard’s waist, guiding her to a much more comfortable position in her lap. edelgard only has a moment to bask in the combined delight of straddling dorothea while having the tension in her neck relieved before dorothea leans forward, kissing edelgard almost desperately. dorothea tastes like red wine and cherry lipgloss and everything edelgard has ever dreamed of in the dark seclusion of her room. it’s intoxicating, really, edelgard thinks.

dorothea’s teeth graze against edelgard’s bottom lip; the pressure isn’t enough to count as a bite, but it’s just as alluring to edelgard, her hips reflexively grinding her down against dorothea in response. “m-more,” edelgard whimpers, not missing the way dorothea had groaned at the feeling of their cores pressed against each other. dorothea pulls away; disappointment fills edelgard for a tenth of a second before dorothea’s lips crash against her neck, kissing and sucking and marking her up, and god, edelgard didn’t know anything could ever feel this good. 

“edie,” dorothea moans against her neck between sloppy kisses, hands wandering up edelgard’s sweater, and, fuck, edelgard’s discovered her new favorite sound. she wants to hear that sound for the rest of her life– but she supposes she could always settle for the rest of tonight. 

too much thinking. her mind is wandering a bit too much, and maybe dorothea can sense it, the woman pausing her ministrations on edelgard’s neck to kiss her again, somehow even deeper than before. if it’s intended as a distraction tactic, it works; edelgard lets herself get sucked away from her more logical thoughts, focusing only on the feeling of dorothea’s lips on hers. 

dorothea is demanding, she quickly learns. her hands seem to never still, always roaming the expanse of her torso, rubbing and touching and _pressing_. it feels so fucking good, being wanted by dorothea. one of her hands wanders further than its dared to before, gliding over her ribs, pushing underneath the band of edelgard’s bra to grasp a pert breast, thumb teasing her nipple. edelgard arches under her touch, desire spreading even deeper than she thought was possible. “dorothea, please,” she begs, not knowing exactly what it is she’s begging for. all she knows is that she wants more. 

if edelgard thought that dorothea was eager before, her efforts somehow seem to double in response to edelgard’s pleas. dorothea pulls off edelgard’s shirt in a flash, all but tearing off her bra to leave edelgard topless in her lap. in any other situation, edelgard would find this utterly embarrassing, so vulnerable and bare in front of another human being. but with dorothea’s eyes full of wanton desire on her, she can’t find it in herself to shy away. 

“you’re so beautiful, edie,” dorothea murmurs before leaning down to take one of edelgard’s breasts into her mouth, tongue flicking against her nipple, already hard with arousal. edelgard moans out something between a cry of pleasure and a plea for more; whatever it is, dorothea understands, teasing her even further with a hint of teeth against her sensitive nipples, invoking yet another cry. it hurts, but in the best way possible, edelgard thinks. she could stay there all night, letting dorothea adorn her breasts with dark red marks and soft kisses. 

then dorothea moans against her skin and edelgard loses her goddamn mind. 

maybe it's the fact that she’s been dreaming about this for so long. maybe it’s the way the tension between them has been building up for what feels like an eternity. but, suddenly, edelgard can’t take another second of not being all over dorothea herself. 

“bedroom, now,” she gasps, pulling herself away, albeit reluctantly, from dorothea’s wanting mouth. 

dorothea frowns, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. edelgard tries her hardest not to stare at her lips, swollen and pink and oh-so-soft, resisting her desire to lean back in and taste them once again. “which one?”

//

and that’s how edelgard ends up in her own bed, pinning dorothea against the sheets. the other woman has lost her shirt somewhere along the journey from the couch in the living room to edelgard’s bedroom, leaving her just as bare as edelgard is on top of her. edelgard kisses every bit of skin she can get her lips on, cherishing the feeling of dorothea writhing underneath her. 

something about this feels familiar, edelgard thinks after leaving a particularly dark mark on the underside of one of dorothea’s breasts. from the sound of dorothea’s moans to the way her body looks sprawled out underneath edelgard, pale skin providing a sharp contrast to edelgard’s dark bedsheets. maybe this scene’s just played out too many times in her dreams, to the point where it feels like she’s rehashing something she’s already seen before.

but this time, she reminds herself, it’s all real. dorothea is _really_ right there, in her bed, eyes reflecting lust and desire right back at her. she isn’t going to wake up alone, untouched, not again. 

just that thought is enough to turn on edelgard even more, if that’s even possible at this point. energized by her musings on the reality of the situation, edelgard trails a series of kisses down dorothea’s torso, pausing when her lips meet the waistband of dorothea’s pants. “can i…?”

dorothea nods frantically, biting her lower lip, a blush spreading over her cheeks. it’s almost cute, edelgard thinks, watching dorothea go from commanding to flustered in a span of barely any time at all. edelgard really can't resist; she leans back down to kiss dorothea softly, softer than any of the kisses they’ve shared yet. “thank you,” she whispers when they part, so quiet that she’s not even sure dorothea can hear. edelgard makes quick work of dorothea’s pants and underwear, tossing them somewhere behind her. they can deal with the mess when they’re done. 

but looking at dorothea now, completely bare underneath her, edelgard’s not sure when that will ever be. never, if she has any say in it. 

“edie,” dorothea whines, breaking edelgard out of her stupor, hips rocking up in search of contact. and, of course, edelgard is more than happy to oblige, one hand trailing down dorothea’s torso to tease her core, her index finger dangerously close to slipping inside of dorothea. she stills for just a moment, just to take in the sight of dorothea, all ready for her, legs spread wide _just_ for her. call it selfishness or curiosity; edelgard’s not entirely sure what is it. probably a combination of them both. 

it doesn’t take long for edelgard to feel just how wet dorothea is for her- she’s practically dripping all over her finger. _she_ did that, edelgard realizes, and the throbbing between her own legs increases impossibly more. she’s aching for dorothea to touch her, aching for dorothea to make her feel good. it would be so easy to let dorothea fuck her until she can’t walk, but the sound of dorothea moaning her name can’t stop replaying in her head. edelgard wants to hear that over and over and over again, wants dorothea to cry out her name like a prayer. 

she gets her wish as soon as she enters dorothea with her finger already slick from her arousal, dorothea crying out her name softly as edelgard buries her finger inside of her. she feels so good around edelgard, warm and tight and god, this is so much better than her dreams. the feeling of being inside of dorothea is intoxicating, she thinks; she’s only just begun, but she can see herself becoming hooked for life, transfixed on the vulgar sight of her finger sliding in and out of dorothea’s wet and needy entrance. 

“_fuck,_” dorothea moans, back arching out of pleasure. “more, edie.”

it’s more of a command than a request, but who is edelgard, anyway, to deny dorothea of her desires? another one of edelgard’s fingers enters dorothea, pumping in and out and in and out and dorothea cries out again, grasping edelgard’s back tightly in search for something, anything to cling onto; her nails dig into edelgard’s bare skin and, god, it hurts so good, edelgard almost thinks she could come just from the pain alone. “t-that’s it,” dorothea gasps, every word soaked in pleasure. “good girl.”

edelgard can’t hold back her own moan at dorothea’s praise, clamping her legs together to resist the urge to shove her free hand down to touch herself; this is about dorothea’s pleasure, not hers, no matter how bad she wants to rub circles around her clit until she comes right there, on top of dorothea. so instead, she quickens her pace, fucking dorothea harder and faster until the only sounds in the room are those of bare skin slapping against bare skin and dorothea crying out edelgard’s name, the woman falling apart more with every relentless thrust. “f-fuck, baby, i’m gonna come,” dorothea whines, and- there’s that feeling again, the one that’s been growing steadily in edelgard all night long. 

it’s all so peculiarly familiar. 

then dorothea cries out, coming with edelgard’s name on her tongue, back arching up off her bed and head thrown back in pleasure, and edelgard can’t help it; all logical thought flies out the window. 

later that night, as edelgard lies in her bed, watching the repetitive rise and fall of dorothea’s chest as she sleeps peacefully next to her, she remembers that sense of déjà vu once more; the nagging feeling of cognizance that she just can’t place a finger on. 

shrugging it off, she buries herself underneath her comforter and tries her best to let the inkling fade away into the night, where it can’t bother her any longer. edelgard’s had a long day, after all– she can take all the rest she can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my deepest apologies for how long this took. i was literally stuck on the last scene for a year. i promise the next chapter, which should be the last, will not take another year.
> 
> merry christmas to those who celebrate! comments/feedback are always appreciated, of course. thank you for your time and patience. <3


End file.
